Chapter Text
One week after the trip, Jihoon meets up with Seungcheol outside the gym in his neighborhood. Seungcheol emerges in a T-shirt and sweatpants, but not sweaty at all. “Did you wait long?”
“No, just got here.” Jihoon looks him up and down. “Were you image training or something?”
“Man, if my imagination were that good, I’d be a lot further in life.” Seungcheol shields his face from the sunlight and Jihoon follows his lead to lunch. “I’m shadowing a trainer at the gym.”
“For a job?”
“Part-time for the summer. I really wasn’t expecting anything since I don’t have any experience, but the owner said he’ll give me a shot.”
Turns out the restaurant is on the street corner — a small, family-owned noodle place, apparently Seungcheol’s go-to for late night dinners on his way home. Ironic that it’s down the street from the gym, but Jihoon’s just impressed that Wonwoo’s bad habit of accidentally skipping meals hasn’t infected Seungcheol after all these years.
“You’re studying sports science,” Jihoon says as seat themselves. “Aren’t you qualified?”
Seungcheol is appalled. “Just because you’re studying something doesn’t mean you can do it in practice. Overconfidence can get you injured, you know?”
Logic aside, Jihoon thinks Seungcheol could stand to be a little overconfident, but that’s a conversation for another day. He finds the utensil drawer on the side of the table and plucks out two pairs of chopsticks. “Well, congratulations. I’ll treat you today.”
Eyes narrowing, Seungcheol passes him a napkin in return. They both order their food before he continues, “Why?”
Jihoon shrugs. “I have something to tell you. But later, after we eat.” The last time he told someone about his dating life, there was choking involved. Better safe than sorry.
Because Seungcheol is clearly suspicious, Jihoon butters him up for good measure: “You’ll be the first one to know.”
Seungcheol leans forward. “Really?” He falters for a second. “It’s not something bad, is it?”
“No.” A ripple of warmth passes through Jihoon from head to toe. “It’s… good.”
Seungcheol relaxes in his chair. “It’s about time you told me something good. It’s been like six years since the last one.”
Jihoon huffs as the waitress drops off two bowls of naengmyeon. Seungcheol snips his noodles, then passes the scissors to Jihoon; they’ve always operated on the mutual understanding that they can take care of themselves, which Jihoon appreciates.
It’s sunny outside, the air conditioning feels great on his back, and Jihoon’s in a good mood, so he adds, “You know, I had a plan back then.”
“What plan?”
“I had a list of people to come out to.” Jihoon stirs his noodles. “You had just graduated and gone to university. It made sense to tell you first.”
Seungcheol’s egg falls back into his bowl with a splat. “Is that how little faith you had in me? You had to wait until I was gone?”
“No, I trusted you.” Jihoon slurps his noodles. “I wouldn’t have told you at all if I didn’t. Having the plan just helped me feel better.”
Seungcheol chews for a moment, expression transitioning into something mildly pained. “Okay. Who was next on the list?”
“Mingyu.”
“Mingyu? I didn’t think you were that close back then.”
“Exactly. In case it didn’t go well, he was in a different year.” Jihoon’s mouth quirks. “But I was pretty sure one of his friends was gay. Just a hunch though.”
“And then?”
“Wonwoo, if it came up in conversation. He seemed good at keeping secrets.”
Seungcheol stares at Jihoon like he’s seeing him in a whole new light. “I had no idea.” He frowns. “Wait, that means you put Soonyoung last. Don’t people usually tell their best friends first?”
“He wasn’t on the list.”
“Explain,” Seungcheol demands.
Jihoon struggles to put his high-school-self’s nebulous feelings into words. “Because he… never talked about girls.”
“What? Did you forget about his epic crush on Song Jihae?”
“Not that.” As he verbalizes it, Jihoon flips through all of those small moments with Soonyoung — each insignificant, but immeasurable. “He just always used the word ‘person,’ whenever we talked about that kind of stuff. He would say, the kind of person you like, or the person you date. The person you marry. He never assumed it would be a girl.”
Seungcheol seems slightly confused, but gradually, he sets down his chopsticks. “You think he knew about you?”
Jihoon shrugs. It didn’t matter whether he knew, is what Jihoon had thought back then. Not when it was clear that Soonyoung wouldn’t have minded either way.
“…You told him eventually, right? Please don’t say he found out when you got a boyfriend.”
“I told him.” After the fact, but Seungcheol doesn’t need to know that. Jihoon carefully sets down his own chopsticks. “And now we’re seeing each other, which is pretty funny.”
“You see each other all the time,” Seungcheol says, grabbing his water. “What does that have to do with…” His eyes go wide and the water promptly slips down the wrong pipe.
Jihoon sighs and reaches across the table to thump Seungcheol’s back. No liquids it is.
(“You know, I thought you were going to tell me that you two are living together.”
Jihoon balks. “What? Why would we be living together?”
“You make it sound like a crazy idea, but you literally see each other all the time.” Seungcheol’s voice is still hoarse from hacking the water out of his airways and then immediately firing off twenty questions about when’s, where’s, why’s, and how’s. “Anyway, that was Wonwoo’s guess. He said Soonyoung’s been cagey about his new apartment ever since he moved in and you’re the only one who’s seen it.”
Suddenly Wonwoo’s pointed questions at the Dongdaemun dessert place make more sense. In the moment, Jihoon had only focused on helping Soonyoung hide the fact that he could even afford his new place.
Jihoon plucks off his hat for a second to run a hand through his hair. “Why would we even lie about living together?”
“Well, I guess Soonyoung would...” Seungcheol trails off at the puzzled look on Jihoon’s face. Upon reconsideration though, he continues, “Whatever, it was a long time ago. When you all started university, Wonwoo asked Soonyoung to room with him off campus, and Soonyoung chose to dorm instead.” He crosses his arms. “Then Wonwoo ended up living with me.”
“Why’d he say no?”
Seungcheol shrugs. “How should I know? Maybe he only rooms with people he dates.”
Jihoon’s ears feel like they’re on fire. He holds up a hand. “We are not living together.”
“—matter of time,” Seungcheol mutters.
“What?”
Seungcheol smiles. “Nothing. Has Soonyoung told Wonwoo what’s going on yet?”
“…Not yet?” Soonyoung’s been extra busy volunteering at his sunbae’s dance studio, and he’s been sending Jihoon the occasional video clip of workshops-in-action.
With a nod, Seungcheol rises to his feet. “Well, thanks for lunch. I’m going.”
“You’re welcome,” Jihoon says warily at the glint in Seungcheol’s eye. “Are you in a hurry or something?”
“Just heading home.” Seungcheol waves without turning back. “Got a few bets to make.”)
Two days after lunch with Seungcheol, Wonwoo sends Soonyoung and Jihoon a “wow ;)” in their dusty high school group chat with no context. Jihoon swiftly leaves the chat, only to be added back in by Soonyoung two minutes later and spammed by a series of dancing emojis.
Later in the afternoon, Seungcheol sends Jihoon a photo of him holding a 50,000 won bill, captioned “my winnings.”
you told wonwoo? Jihoon texts Soonyoung.
it was very refreshing~
he thought we were living together???
lololol
you’re a hermit crab
Jihoon lets out the breath he’d been subconsciously holding.
cool
hermit crab??
yeah
they like living alone!
i’m not a hermit crab
okay lolol
Jihoon types, and deletes, and types several replies. Finally, he sends:
i mean it depends on the other crab
“Working on Sung Sikyung’s ‘On the Street’?” Beomju winks on his way past Jihoon. When he’s safely alone, Jihoon massages his face to make sure there’s nothing out of place on it before heading back to work.
are you at work today??
yeah why, Jihoon texts back, before turning his phone face down in his lap.
“I think it’d be good to have backup vocals, just on this track,” Namjoon is saying. They’re running over on an hour-long discussion about his first EP. Jihoon had been invited upon Namjoon’s request alongside another in-house producer; Jihoon’s not sure why, exactly, and it’s kept him a bit on edge the whole time.
Jihoon’s phone buzzes — loudly — against his laptop, and he apologizes.
Namjoon checks his watch. “Gosh, it’s way later than I thought… We can end here. Sorry to take up everyone’s time.”
Out in the hall, Jihoon checks Soonyoung’s texts.
you told me to text you if i want to stop by…
are you busy?
no, Jihoon types, feeling lighter now that he has something to look forward to. come
“Hey.” Jihoon looks up as Namjoon shuts the studio door behind him. He smiles. “Can we talk?”
At the vending machine, Namjoon pays. “Iced tea?” he asks, and Jihoon nods.
“You remembered?”
“I have a pretty good memory.” He hands Jihoon his drink. “I just wanted to thank you.”
Jihoon had just cracked his tea open, and he swallows his gigantic mouthful to speak. “For what?”
“For reminding me how stupid I was being.” Sheepishly, Namjoon rubs the back of his neck. “I needed to hear that.”
“You’re welcome,” Jihoon says, and Namjoon smile widens. “That's not why you invited me to the meeting though, right?”
“No way.” He points at Jihoon’s drink. “I’ve paid you back for that now.”
“Then why...”
“Let’s just say someone had a lot of good things to say about your work,” is Namjoon’s mysterious reply. He clasps Jihoon on the shoulder and leaves him there by the vending machines.
“Myungho is moving back to China,” Soonyoung says over the sound of him smacking his tube of Papico ice cream repeatedly over his knee.
“I think that’s pulverized by now,” Jihoon points out. Soonyoung confirms it with a shake, and cracks it the tip open. “And yeah, he told me.”
Soonyoung stops sucking. “What? When?”
“On the trip. It came up.”
“What the hell…” Soonyoung grumbles. Jihoon’s ice cream is melting in the tube — he wouldn’t have chosen Papico chocolate, but Soonyoung had asked him if he wanted to split a two-pack at the convenience store and he went with it.
Freeing as it is, walking next to Soonyoung without needing to hide anything, it’s somewhat bittersweet today. He can sense Soonyoung’s mood in the air. Subtly, Jihoon steers them towards a small playground, which is mostly empty near dinner time.
“Are you sad about it?”
“No,” Soonyoung says. “I’m happy for him. It’s always been tough on him, staying here.”
“Your face isn’t saying that.”
Soonyoung looks up to see Jihoon studying him, and his eyebrows rise. “Why, what does my face say?”
Jihoon puts two fingers to his temple, copying Soonyoung’s telepathy move. “‘Why didn’t he tell me earlier? Is there something I could’ve done to help him?’ That’s what you’re thinking.”
“Hey, don’t steal my powers!” Soonyoung squeezes his ice cream dry and tosses the wrapper in the trash. Jihoon holds out his own tube and Soonyoung takes it, though he wrinkles his nose at how melted it is.
Once he finishes that one, Jihoon’s thumb comes up to wipe at a spot of chocolate on the corner of Soonyoung’s mouth.
“I really am happy for him,” he feels Soonyoung say beneath his thumb, right before he pulls away. “Myungho’s got a strong sense of responsibility, you know? I knew he had to end things here so he can start over.” Soonyoung licks his lips absently and Jihoon, his thumb keenly tacky, joins him in watching a dad push his kid on the swings nearby.
“But?” Jihoon prompts.
“But… I was talking to Chan this morning, and he said that’s why Myungho wanted to go on a trip with us. Because he was already planning to leave.” Soonyoung folded his arms. “I was a little mad, honestly. I would’ve gone on a trip with him either way. He could’ve told me.”
The dad and kid head home, and Soonyoung makes a beeline for the jungle gym. Jihoon trails after him.
“Maybe he needed some time,” Jihoon says, thinking back to the few weeks he’d spent burying himself in work and hoping that everyone would forget he’d been dating Yoongi in the first place. “Like I did.”
Soonyoung climbs up the slide. “I was mad at you, too.”
“And I’m sorry for that.” Jihoon climbs after him, his sneakers slipping on the smooth surface. Instead of getting out of the way, Soonyoung offers a hand through the hole at the top. Jihoon grabs it.
After tugging Jihoon through, Soonyoung holds on for a moment before letting go. He steps onto the bridge. “I get it though. It’s not like I tell people everything either.”
“Wow, so you’re self-aware?”
Vindictively, Soonyoung jumps on the bridge and jostles Jihoon, and that kicks off a chase across the playground because somehow seeing Soonyoung always involves a workout.
Three laps in, Soonyoung roars and starts chasing Jihoon instead until they both collapse, winded, on the swings.
“It’s because you matter,” Jihoon says between breaths, resting his head against a rusty chain. He closes his eyes. “I’m sure Myungho wanted to tell you. But he couldn’t until he knew he was ready to move on.”
The swings creak as Soonyoung rocks himself back and forth. “He’ll be happy, right?”
“Yeah.” He already is.
“I was informed over text,” Mingyu proclaims defensively when Jihoon arrives at the baseball stadium on a Saturday morning.
“Hm?” Jihoon slips past a few people in the row to sit down. Then the answer strikes him and he stiffens. “Oh. Good.”
On the other side of Mingyu, Wonwoo chuckles. Last week Mingyu had invited the two of them to one of Jungkook’s baseball games, and something had compelled Jihoon to come, despite having barely any knowledge of the sport; he has a cousin who used to play baseball — and that’s about it.
Having kept himself calm for all of one minute, Mingyu nudges Jihoon. “Who would’ve thought, though,” he gushes, and Jihoon facepalms. He could’ve been at home right now, blissfully ignorant in his bed.
“I’m glad you know, but let’s not mention this ever again.”
“Give him a break,” Wonwoo chides half-heartedly.
Mingyu sighs and sits back. “You’re right. It’s no fun when other one isn’t even here.”
Intermittently, Mingyu feeds Jihoon and Wonwoo commentary about what’s happening on the field. He points out Jungkook — a tiny figure in the distance — when he’s announced as a pinch hitter.
In a flash, Jungkook makes it to third base and the crowd erupts into hollers and cheers. Jihoon plugs his ear with a pinky. He suddenly remembers the one time during university, when Seokmin had been humming a ballad and Jungkook had harmonized with him on the spot. It’s hard to believe these are the same person.
Jihoon’s phone buzzes and he tugs it out of his pocket, expecting a text from Soonyoung — but it’s from an unknown number. Curious, he opens it.
There’s a substantial block of text.
“Jihoon,” it begins. “Hope you’re doing well. I want to apologize for taking so long to contact you, but I’m not sure you’d want to hear it… Anyway, I’m sorry…” When Jihoon gets to the end, he has to read it twice. “This is out of the blue, but could we meet up? I think we should talk. You can pick the time and place. Thanks, Yoongi.”
The noise of the crowd brings Jihoon back to reality. He contemplates it, then waits out Mingyu’s tirade about biased umpires before getting his attention.
Jihoon holds up his phone and Mingyu leans in to read the text, his expression slowly growing serious.
“I should meet him, right?”
Mingyu looks around as if to confirm that Jihoon’s talking to him, then shakes his head. “I’m not going to say anything unnecessary anymore. You decide.”
Jihoon hums. “But do you still think I should meet him?”
Mingyu’s brow furrows. “Is this a trick question?”
“I want to hear your opinion. Honest opinion.”
Mingyu chews on his bottom lip as his brow gradually smooths. “You should,” he says at last, chancing a glance at Jihoon. “I think you deserve an explanation. And just so you know, Jungkook would agree with me.”
Jihoon nods. “Alright then.”
“…You’re really listening to me?”
“Yeah. I told you — I trust you.”
“Right. Of course.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jihoon catches Mingyu fixing his posture and clearing his throat. Jihoon stifles a laugh and turns back to the game.
Jihoon arrives at the café near Hanyang where he’d last seen Yoongi and Jungkook, slightly nervous but surprisingly calm. He spots Yoongi sitting at a table in the corner wearing all gray, a mask tucked under his chin as he peruses his tablet.
On a whim, Jihoon orders a strawberry smoothie and brings it with him.
“Hi.”
Yoongi blinks up at him, slightly startled perhaps, and sets his tablet aside. “Hey. Thanks for coming.”
Jihoon shakes his head. “I hope this place wasn’t too far.”
“No, not at all. I live near here now. My workplace is close.”
Yoongi folds his napkin — a nervous tick, Jihoon knows. Seeing that chases away the rest of the roiling in Jihoon’s gut. He takes a sip of his smoothie; it’s a tad too sweet, just on the right side of comforting.
“Where are you working now?”
The mundane question seems to soothe Yoongi, too. “Ah, I’m on contract with another architecture firm.” He shrugs. “Nothing new. You?”
“Same. Well, I got promoted.”
A smile pulls at Yoongi’s mouth. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
Yoongi nods. “I heard you’re working with Joon now?”
“Yeah.” Jihoon tilts his head. “Did you two… talk?”
Yoongi studies the table. “Thanks to you.”
“That’s what Namjoon-hyung said. But I really didn’t do anything.”
Yoongi gives him a firm look. “You did. And he talked some sense into me, too.” He weighs his words. “I’m sorry, I really am. There were… things I never explained to you. That’s why I wanted to meet.”
“Okay,” Jihoon says calmly. “Tell me.”
And so Yoongi tells him about his trip to Daegu last year, the reason why he’d left Seoul for months — about how his older brother in America had suddenly gotten divorced and flew back to his parent’s home in Korea.
“I have a niece and nephew,” Yoongi says, the napkin slowly transforming into origami in his restless hands. “There was going to be a custody battle. I went home to check in on him.”
It had been months; much longer than a mere check-in. “But you decided to stay?” Jihoon guesses.
“You know how I told you I was the black sheep of my family?” Yoongi says in a joking tone. “My parents and I don’t get along. We’re just bad at communicating. But after seeing my brother so upset, I felt like maybe I wasn’t trying hard enough.” He lets out a quiet laugh. “That I was too scared to try to change things.”
Jihoon swallows. He grips his smoothie. “Were you scared of me, too?”
“A little,” Yoongi admits. “I’m sorry for that.”
Jihoon accepts it quietly, without fanfare. “…I didn’t even ask you about what was going on. I’m sorry for that, too.”
“I’m your hyung. I should’ve handled it better.”
“Well, that’s true,” Jihoon says. Yoongi smiles slightly and Jihoon returns it. “But I messed up, too. And I learned a lot from it.”
Yoongi finally picks up his neglected Americano. “Like what?”
“Like…” No matter how hard Jihoon wracks his brain, only one person comes to mind. “Like how sometimes you have to end things so you can start over.”
Yoongi frowns. “Isn’t that common sense?”
“It made more sense in context... Never mind.”
“Well, I did start working on a new mixtape right after I finished doing my laundry,” Yoongi says. “So you might be onto something.”
Jihoon ignores the sarcasm. “You’re working on a new mixtape?”
“Yeah.” Carefully, Yoongi folds his hands in his lap. He shifts into producer-mode. “Is there any chance that you’d want to feature?” At Jihoon’s incredulous look, he adds, “You know I like your voice. You can say no.”
“It’s a no, I think.” Only Yoongi would be able to invite an ex to feature on his track. “Thanks though. You should ask Namjoon.”
Yoongi clicks his tongue. “I already did.”
“What did he say?”
“That he’ll think about it.”
“He’s going to be busy with his EP. That might be why.”
“Or he might be mad at me for being an idiot,” Yoongi points out, “which is fine. I guess I’ll have to bribe him for a few years.”
“Careful,” Jihoon warns as he sips his smoothie. “Next thing you know, all your friends will think you’re living together.”
“…and then he said he had some work to finish at the café, so I said, ‘Okay, bye,’ and left,” Jihoon says, concluding his recap. He’s leaning against the fridge watching Soonyoung rustle around the kitchen for cooking tools he’s never touched before. “It was awkward, but not as bad as I thought it would be.”
Soonyoung unearths a beat-up pot, deems it usable, and places it on the stove. “So are you feeling okay?”
“Mm.” Jihoon scans the ingredients that Soonyoung had laid out on the counter with a critical eye. “Why is this ginger fuzzy?”
“What?” Soonyoung peers over his shoulder. “That wasn’t fuzzy yesterday…”
Jihoon wrinkles his nose and tosses it in the trash. “Are you sure this is going to be edible?”
“As if you’re so picky about what you eat,” Soonyoung mutters, and Jihoon headbutts Soonyoung’s shoulder on his way to the sink to rinse the fuzzy ginger off his hands. Once clean, he starts digging through Soonyoung’s takeout menu drawer.
“What are you doing?”
“Ordering more food in case your jjigae explodes.”
“I don’t think this is how dates are supposed to work,” Soonyoung complains. “Aren’t you supposed to pretend it tastes good?”
Jihoon scoffs. “You’re not paying me enough for that.” He shushes him as the call goes through. “Hi, yes, I’d like to order…”
Two hours later, they’re boneless on the couch, surrounded by copious takeout containers and empty bowls of Soonyoung’s watery but palatable jjigae. Jihoon rubs his belly as they gaze at the white ceiling of Soonyoung’s apartment like there might be stars up there.
“Are you really doing okay?” Soonyoung asks again.
Jihoon sighs. “You really want to talk about this on a date?”
“I mean, was this really a date? Maybe I should’ve picked a fancy restaurant or something…”
“I thought you were sick of fancy restaurants,” Jihoon says, and Soonyoung’s sheepish silence says it all. “What’s wrong with this? I like it.”
There’s a soft rustle as Soonyoung turns to look at him. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
Soonyoung turns back to the ceiling. “What do you want to do next time?”
Next time, Jihoon echoes, just so it can sink in. Without thinking too deeply about it, Jihoon readjusts himself so he’s lying down, the back of his head resting on Soonyoung’s thigh.
“There used to be a lot of things I wanted to do,” Jihoon muses, recalling his time with Yoongi. “But I can’t think of anything now.”
Soonyoung plops his hand over Jihoon’s face. “Well, sorry I’m boring.”
Jihoon peels it off and sticks the hand on Soonyoung’s face instead. “Stop apologizing to me.”
“I was joking,” says Soonyoung, muffled.
“I know.” Because Jihoon feels safer when Soonyoung can’t look right through him, he adds, “Stop being so careful. I can handle it.” He lets him go.
Soonyoung ponders that. “I was being careful?”
“On the trip, too.” Jihoon folds his arms over his chest. “I’m doing really good, you know? I feel great.”
“Alright then,” Soonyoung says, relaxing against the cushions again. “I know you’re fine most of the time. I just… think it’s nice when you tell me how you’re feeling.”
Jihoon peeks at the underside of Soonyoung’s chin and feels a surge of emotion so strong that he has to breathe through it. Slowly, he sits up. At the same time, Soonyoung lifts his head off the couch.
Jihoon presses their foreheads together. Let me show you. He closes the gap.
Jihoon steps outside of his apartment building, letting the September morning chill wake him up the rest of the way — only to stop and marvel at the stickered silver Kia parked on the roadside. Soonyoung’s leaning against it, texting on his phone. When he spots Jihoon, he lights up, nearly sparkling with anticipation.
“Isn’t this your dad’s car?” Jihoon asks, still somewhat in disbelief. “I thought you were going to rent one.”
Soonyoung loads Jihoon’s bags into the trunk. “Oh, he lectured me over the phone about wasting money and made me go pick it up.” He pats the car fondly. “We can drop it off next week.”
Jihoon climbs into the passenger seat and straps in. “Remember, I’m putting my life in your hands.”
“Get ready to sleep like a baby,” Soonyoung says, turning on the ignition with relish.
For all that Jihoon has teased him, Soonyoung isn’t actually a bad driver; perhaps a bit overcautious and GPS-incompetent, but Jihoon can live with that. Instead of sleeping, Jihoon puts on some music and keeps a watchful eye on the navigation.
Around the three-hour mark, Soonyoung’s energy has fizzled out. His shoulders have loosened up and now and then he sings along to a song he recognizes.
“I was wrong,” Jihoon says reluctantly. “I might regret this later, but you got us this far. I won’t call you a bad driver anymore.”
“It’s okay.” Soonyoung pauses to switch lanes. “You were just jealous.”
“You’re right. I’m so jealous.” Jihoon stretches and pops a few joints to his immense satisfaction. He pats Soonyoung on the shoulder. “I’ll leave it to you, good driver.”
Jihoon accidentally falls asleep.
When he wakes up they’re already in Busan. He listens to Soonyoung hum under his breath and watches the city pass outside, the occasional storefront wishing everyone a happy Chuseok.
Jihoon’s parents and grandparents live in an apartment complex in Suyeong, which borders the ocean. His parents welcome Soonyoung like nothing has changed and his grandparents think Soonyoung’s family live too far away to spend the holidays with, but it’s peaceful, and Jihoon is thankful for that.
After dinner, Jihoon offers to wash the dishes.
“Don’t worry about it,” his mom says, already glove-deep in suds. “Go see that Soonyoung is comfortable.”
Jihoon’s throat tightens. When he doesn’t move, she shoots him an exasperated look over her shoulder.
“I said go.” He thinks her eyes soften before she turns back to the task at hand. “And tell your dad to get in here.”
Soonyoung is organizing his luggage in Jihoon’s room when Jihoon finds him. “Hey. Come with me for a second.”
Soonyoung follows him outside to the narrow balcony that borders the apartment. Around the other side, it widens into a nook lined with neat containers of dirt, staked with wire and wooden trellises.
“Whoa. What’s this?”
“My grandmother’s garden.” Jihoon guides them over a network of crisscrossing black hoses, a homemade watering system. “My grandparents used to live in the countryside before they moved to the city. She had a huge garden there. I don’t remember it that clearly, but I used to help her out.”
“This is amazing.” Soonyoung crouches by a basket of tan bulbs. “What are these?”
Jihoon shakes some dirt out of his slides. “Daffodils.” He points at the row of dirt-filled containers beside it. “All of these. She plants them every fall.”
Soonyoung picks one of the bulbs up and turns it over in the light of a nearby lamp. He presses his face briefly into his elbow before standing up, and Jihoon notices.
“Are you crying?” he asks, half-teasing and half-alarmed.
Soonyoung sets the bulb gently back in its basket. “Just a little,” he confesses, which makes Jihoon laugh. “Can we come back to see them in the spring?”
“Only if you drive.”
Soonyoung grins. “Deal.”